Pleasure has not ruled all aspects of Richard Costa's world, but books and their writers have brought innumerable hours of it to his thought-filled years. In this insightful journey through a life suffused with literature, he introduces readers to the literary figures whose paths crossed his: Somerset Maugham, H. G. Wells, Conrad Aiken, Edmund Wilson, Kingsley Amis, Dorothy Parker, Edith Wharton, and others. In these pages lie answers to questions, and questions for many answers. What did Wells fear more than the bombs during the London Blitz? What is Edmund Wilson's favorite of all his books? What writer, after declaring his walking-stick unbreakable, watched as Ernest Hemingway broke the stick over his own head? Why is it impossible to discover a new book today? Readers who accompany Costa on his journey of the mind and heart will have the opportunity to experience the vicarious pleasures of a tea, a chat, and a good read in the light of literary stars.
I suppose that, with this book, Costa was getting around to summarizing and recounting what he regarded as significant in his career. Unfortunately, and I mean this with no animus, one wonders just how significant it has been. The encounter with Maugham is unenlightening,banal and centerpieced by a full page photograph of a note from Maugham to Costa stating "For Richard Costa in recollection of a pleasant chat." (Signed of course.)-Gee, I feel I know Maugham so much better now.-The Maugham part is only the first 32 pages though. The rest of the book is a concoction gleaned from the author's life of unrelated literary notions and meetings:H.G. Wells, Ms. Hemingway, Edmund Wilson etc. -The only of these encounters I found truly amusing and interesting was with the hysterical late wife of the writer Malcolm Lowry. She is already smashed by the time Costa meets her in mid-afternoon and, after a lunch of escargots, for which she has Costa pay, takes him back to her hotel room, where she continues to drink and leaves Costa fascinated by the welts on her back (Were they intended? Does she have violent lovers?)-Costa leaves her hotel room drunkenly as her late husband was famous for being (being bit by a poodle on the way out), thinking he has managed a sort of coup in getting her to admit that Malcolm had intended suicide.-It's, of course, really not such a surprise after all for anyone who knows anything about Malcolm....So, in summation, an interesting enough read. Mr. Costa has made some interesting acquaintances along the way....Still, for me, the whole book is worth the picture of Malc and Marge outside their cabin in Canada with drinks in their hands-Malc grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary!
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